


chasing things that we should run from (take no chances)

by betamax524



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-20
Updated: 2015-11-20
Packaged: 2018-05-02 13:25:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5249747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/betamax524/pseuds/betamax524
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>Charles is fascinated, that’s all. Erik’s unlike anyone he’s ever met, someone who actually managed to keep up with his thoughts, someone who was on his level, even.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>That was it. Fascination, and nothing more.</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	chasing things that we should run from (take no chances)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [velvetcadence](https://archiveofourown.org/users/velvetcadence/gifts).



> this was originally based on how the deleted scenes implied charles was the Repressed one. idk if that shows though, heh.
> 
> title is from the song Tether by CHVRCHES

Charles is fascinated, that’s all. Erik’s unlike anyone he’s ever met, someone who actually managed to keep up with his thoughts, someone who was on his level, even.

That was it. Fascination, and nothing more. He’s just heady from the rush of meeting someone with that much power, with a mind so unique it seems to call out to him no matter the distance.

They’re walking down some street as the sun falls, and Charles manages to spot a pub out of the corner of his eye. “We deserve a little break,” he reasons with Erik, trying to ignore the odd feeling in his chest as he watches the shadows play across his face.

“As long as you’re paying,” Erik replies with what seems to be a slight smirk, and for a second Charles feels like grabbing him by the jacket and pressing his lips against that smug mouth.

Wait,  _what?_

He shakes his head and fakes laughter, and the second they receive their orders, he takes a big gulp then looks around the place for a distraction. He’s just tired, he reasons with himself, and when he spots a woman looking at him, he makes his way to her.

It’s pretty easy, he’s done this so many times. He compliments her on her hair (it’s red-not something you see much around these parts) and she has her laughing at his terribly cheesy jokes, but then he makes the mistake of glancing around the pub.

Erik’s drinking from a glass, his head tipped back and Charles can’t tear his eyes away from his throat and he feels his mouth going dry. Then Erik sets the glass down, along with a few bills, and looks at Charles straight in the eye.

It can’t be. He must be imagining things. It’s probably the alcohol, Raven always did say he was a bit of a lightweight.

Erik’s lips quirk up the slightest, then with no warning he stands up and walks out the door.

Charles doesn’t really understand what’s happening, but the next thing he knows, he’s mumbling apologies and nearly stumbling over his own feet to run out the door. He glances left and right, damning Erik’s long legs and his long strides, until he makes out a silhouette lit by a small light a few blocks away.

“What the bloody  _hell_  was that about?” he hisses, just as Erik’s lit his cigarette. “A warning next time would be polite.”

Erik glances at him, then takes his cigarette out and exhales a plume of smoke that slowly fades into wisps. “I was just going out for a smoke,” he drawls, his accent catching on the consonants, making them sound rougher. “I was going to come back eventually.” Charles can only stand there, trying to catch his breath, and watching in disbelief as Erik continues to smoke casually in the crisp evening air. “You should be getting back soon,” Erik says softly. “Don’t want to leave that girl hanging, do you?” He leans back, resting his head against the brick wall, and Charles watches, mesmerized, at the smoke gently wafting out of his mouth. There’s some sort of hazy heat warming him up and…

Oh. Oh no.

Erik is staring at him now, absentmindedly tapping away the ashes of his cigarette against the wall. Absentmindedly he recalls the girl from the pub-with the red hair and dark eyes-but he suddenly finds that he doesn’t really care. He takes a step closer, grabbing the soft cashmere of Erik’s black turtleneck, and oh, Erik leans down so slightly and Charles can feel his breath ghosting over his lips.

“Even if you spent the night with her, it wouldn’t be  _her_ that you’d think about, am I right?” Erik whispers, one hand cupping his chin.

“Do  _shut up_ ,” Charles replies, eyes fluttering shut as he closes the space between them.

Oh. Oh,  _this is nice_.

Erik tastes like nicotine and scotch and his stubble is scratching against Charles’ skin but he doesn’t really care anymore. He places his fingers against his temple and casually projects the illusion that they’re not there, that they don’t exist, to anyone who passes by. It’s a rush of power, nothing like what he’s ever done before, but it doesn’t feel as scary as he thought it would be. It feels, good, even. Comforting, in a sense.

The cigarette Erik was smoking is on the ground now, giving off its last puffs of smoke after Erik had probably kicked it aside. “We should get back,” Erik says, the rough edge in his voice contrasting with how he gently smooths Charles’ hair back into place.

“Yes,” Charles replies breathlessly. “Let’s get going.”


End file.
